Getting Played

by Mia Storm

  “Meaning?”

  He swallows. “Everyone’s always saying how rank anchovies are. They’re not bad.”

  I fold my slice and take another bite. “You’ve seriously never tasted one before?”

  “One more thing I can check off my bucket list,” he says with a grin, then shoves half the slice into his mouth.

  “What else is on your list?” I ask.

  He gives me a long look as he chews. “I don’t really have one, now that you mention it.”

  “They’re stupid anyway,” I say with a shrug. “It’s a waste of time thinking about all the things you want to do before you die. You could die tomorrow and a bucket list isn’t going to mean squat.”

  I only realize how bitter that sounded when his gaze locks on mine and sharpens, as if he’s lasering in on my thoughts.

  I shake myself loose from those eyes that could compel me to spill my darkest secrets if I were to gaze into them too long, and take a bite of pizza. “But whatever. If you want a bucket list, go for it.”

  “You don’t have anything you want to do before you check out?” he asks with raised eyebrows.

  “Haven’t thought about it.”

  “Well you should,” he says, going for another slice. “I want a bucket list.”

  “Then make one.”

  He leans back and takes a bite. “So where should we start?”

  “You already have,” I say with a wave of my slice toward his.

  He holds his up. “And you’ve gotten me off to a fine one. So now we need something to top anchovies.”

  “We?” I ask. “I told you I don’t want any part of this.”

  “Tough, because what if your idea turns out to be the Best Thing Ever and I would have missed it because I never thought of it.” He tears off a hunk of pizza with his teeth. “Like anchovies.”

  I look at him a long second as he chews and a hot tingle runs under my skin. “So we’d do stuff from the list together?”

  He nods as he swallows. “That would be the general plan. Call it moral support, call it peer pressure, all I know is we’re more likely to check stuff off the list if we’re both doing it.”

  My heart starts to pound as the possibilities scroll in my head. “How are we going to do this?”

  “A collaboration. We’ll each throw ideas out until we have a list, then we can rank them together.”

  “How do you know I won’t put something like ‘lose my virginity’ on the list?” Heat radiates from my face, but I force myself to hold his gaze.

  There’s a second that he just stares at me, but then his eyes grow softer. “I’d expect you would.”

  For several beats of my racing heart, we sit here staring at each other, before he clears his throat. “I want to try one new food a week. And I’m open to suggestions,” he says, with a nod at the pizza box. “Your turn.”

  “I have to come up with another one right here on the spot?” I say.

  He cocks his head in a question, but then the light dawns in his eyes. “Ah…virginity. Right…” He pulls out his phone and starts typing it like it’s no big thing, then shifts and hooks an elbow over the back of the bench as he thinks. “Swim with dolphins.”

  I nod. “That’s a good one. Put that on top.”

  He raises his eyebrows as he shoots me a glance out from under those long, thick lashes. “Above virginity?”

  All the muscles south of my waist contract. “I guess I’ll leave that up to you, since I’ve never done either.”

  He types it in and tips his head toward me. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “I want to get a tattoo.”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

  I shrug it off, a little embarrassed that I said it now. “I’ve always wanted one.”

  “Of what?”

  I take another bite of pizza and chew.

  Marcus takes my cue and devours the rest of his slice before reaching for another. “Let me guess. You want a naked woman across your chest. Or maybe the grim reaper down your side.” He takes a bite. “Or we could go super cliché and get a tramp stamp.” He lifts his shirt, exposing the small of his back. “What do you think? Prime real estate?”

  God, yes. “I don’t know what I’d get, so I guess I’m open to suggestions too.”

  “We’ll have to come up with something good.” He grins. “No flowers or hearts or anything girly. I’ve got a reputation to maintain, after all.”

  “You? You’re getting one too.”

  “It’s our bucket list, remember?”

  “But you don’t have to get the same one as me.”

  His gaze deepens. “Yes I do.”

  There’s a second I can’t breathe as he holds me locked in those cinnamon eyes.

  He blinks, as if suddenly waking from a daze, then shifts away from me and scratches his head.“I guess we don’t have to decide right now. I think you need to be eighteen, unless your Dad would okay it.”

  When he says it, I realize why the shift in demeanor. The age thing. When we’re talking it’s easy to forget. But he obviously hasn’t.

  “He went to an AA meeting tonight.”

  I freeze for a second when I realize I said that out loud. I hadn’t meant to tell Marcus. I’m not sure why, but it feels safer if no one else knows. Like, when it all explodes in my face, at least no one had their hopes up.

  “Listen,” Marcus says, pointing his pizza bone at me. “I know this is none of my business, but I could keep an eye on Bruce…if that would help.”

  “He’s not your responsibility.”

  His gaze grows intense. “He’s not yours, either.”

  “He is.”

  He shakes his head. “No, he’s not. You are responsible for yourself…for the things you can control. He’s not one of them.”

  I sink deeper into the bench and lower my gaze. “You’re wrong.”

  Because I am responsible for him being this way. And now I know that more than ever. He said Mom was his world. And I killed her.

  “Explain how I’m wrong. Because the way I see it, he’s the adult.”

  Irritation bleeds into his words and feeds the ball of frustrated anguish in my chest, making it so large I can’t breathe.

  I spin on him. “Why does your father drink?”

  He shrugs. “To escape from reality, I guess. I’ve honestly never asked.”

  “What reality? What do you think he’s trying to escape from?” I push, my words becoming sharper.

  “His work is demanding, but I think it’s more that he’s not comfortable relating to people. Even his own family. So he just checks out. Booze helps him do that.”

  I nod, feeling acid rising in my throat. “So it’s not to escape the reality of a dead wife. Or the fact that his daughter killed her?”

  There’s a long moment where Marcus just looks at me. I expect him to say all the things Aunt Becky and my friends and the therapists said to me two years ago, just after it happened. But instead of telling me he’s sure it wasn’t my fault, or that it’s going to be all right, he says, “That’s got to be tough.”

  I nod, feeling the threat of tears I’m not going to indulge.

  “Did he drink before your mother died?” he asks.

  I set down the slice I’ve barely nibbled and haul a deep breath, holding it a second before exhaling. “Not like now.”

  He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I might be way out of line here, Addie, but if he drinks to forget about losing his wife, that’s still his issue, not yours.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not about losing his wife. It’s about how he lost her.”

  He straightens up and looks at me a long moment. “How did he lose her?”

  “Car wreck. We were fighting.” I drop my gaze and shake my head. “We were always fighting.”

  “So, she was upset,” he says, but I’m already shaking my head before he’s finished.

  “I was upset.” My heart knots in my throat with the words and my voi
ce breaks. “I wasn’t paying attention and ran a stop sign.”

  I glance up and find his eyes wide. “Oh, man. I’m so sorry, Addie.” He pulls me to his shoulder and I let him.

  A tear slips over my lashes and trickles onto his shirt. Then another. His fingers stroke gently over my back and I feel his breath in my hair. I expect a barrage of questions, but he just holds me. Finally, I draw back and look at him. His eyes are so open and so deep I could lose myself in them.

  “Whatever you need, Addie,” he says. “Just ask.”

  I give him a weak nod, trying to decide if I’m relieved he’s not pushing for all the gory details. Part of me wants to talk to him, but a bigger part of me is terrified to. And I’m not even sure I have the words just yet.

  He jiggles the pizza box. “One more slice of fishy deliciousness.”

  I scoop it up and Marcus takes the empty box to the trashcan just up the path. But this time, as I watch him go, I’m thinking less about his perfect ass and more about the fact that he’s the only person I’ve ever talked to about my mom. And I don’t regret it.

  Chapter 9

  Marcus

  I drive Addie home and force my eyes and hands to stay focused on my driving instead of migrating across the divide to comfort her. She’s in so much pain. That’s what I’ve been seeing in her eyes—that loss of innocence. I want to take it all away, but I know platitudes aren’t going to cut it. There’s no one-size-fits-all solution. All I can do is listen.

  And the more I hear, the more I feel our connection. It’s been there since the day of Blaire’s wedding. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, except to say I trust her, and I feel like she’s starting to trust me. Maybe it’s because she’s dealing with so much of her own shit that mine seems insignificant by comparison. Or maybe it’s because despite everything, she’s still this strong, funny, incredible girl, and I have all kinds of respect for her.

  It’s because of that that I don’t push her for more right now. I know she’ll tell me what she wants me to know in her own time. What she needs is to feel safe and understood, and I can do that for her.

  When we pull up to her house, her father’s car is in the driveway. She looks at it and then at me. “Thanks for the pizza.”

  I smile. “Thanks for a new culinary experience. I will never look at anchovies the same.”

  “I’m not sorry your date didn’t work out,” she blurts.

  I watch her eyes as she says it. Is she just glad for the company? The pizza? Or is it more?

  I realize in my search for the meaning behind her words, I’ve leaned closer. Her face flushes under my scrutiny, and she’s holding her breath. Waiting.

  I lift my hand and do what I’ve been dying to. I brush my fingertips over the wisps of hair around her bandages, along her cheekbone, to the dark circle under her eye. “You are incredibly strong, Addie. Most people who’ve been through what you have would have cracked, but you keep pushing through it. You’re a survivor, and you’re going to be fine.”

  I realize I should have kept my mouth shut when her face crumbles into a grimace and she pulls away from my touch. Before I’ve even lowered my hand, she’s out of my truck and moving up the walkway to her door. At her doorstep, she glances back before vanishing into the dark inside.

  I sit here for another minute, trying to wrap my mind around what I said that scared her. Because it was clearly fear in her eyes. Terror. And something else.

  I shake my head to clear it, then head back to my apartment.

  When I get to school the next afternoon, I swing into the staff room to pick up my paycheck and find Principal Monroe draining the last of the coffee from the pot into his travel mug.

  “Marcus!” he says, giving me a clap on the back. “I was just headed over to the pool to see if you were here yet.”

  “What’s up?” I ask, swiping the envelope out of my box and shoving it in my pocket.

  He takes a long sip of his coffee. “I want to preface this by saying no one’s accusing you of anything, but some unsettling rumors have come to our attention and I think we need to be careful to nip them in the bud.”

  My blood freezes in my veins. “Rumors?”

  He gives half an eye roll. “It’s not unusual when we have a young attractive teacher or coach that this happens, but it would be prudent on your part to avoid anything that could appear unseemly.”

  “Can I ask what these rumors are about?”

  He waves a hand dismissively. “Nothing specific, or this would be a much more serious conversation, but you need to be extra mindful of how you communicate with your team members. Be sure there’s no way any contact could be misconstrued, and don’t make any comment that has any sort of sexual connotation or interpretation.”

  Other than that day over a month ago with Addie in the park, I’m fairly certain I haven’t done any of those things. Corinne’s boobs falling out of her swimsuit are not my fault, and I don’t look.

  But, thinking back on last night, I have no doubt that several lines were crossed. I remember how soft Addie’s hair felt under my fingers, and how her gaze heated when she held mine. And discussing her virginity probably wasn’t within the scope of my role as a coach.

  There’s a rush to my stomach as I remember her face: how she blushed and lowered her lashes. I can’t deny I care about Addie, but nothing inappropriate happened between us. I understand where she’s at, and I just want to help her.

  “Got it,” I say, heading for the door.

  And I’m convinced I do…until I pull myself out of the water after my lap swim and see Addie walking toward me. When my heart speeds faster than can be accounted for by the workout, and a buzz settles under my skin, I’m suddenly not sure I’ve “got” anything.

  Chapter 10

  Addie

  I’m not sure how to read what happened last night when Marcus dropped me at the house. He was right there, so close, and there was a second I was sure he was going to kiss me.

  But then, instead, he said I was strong and called me a survivor. Suddenly I felt like I was suffocating. I couldn’t look him in the eye without him seeing the truth, and I don’t want him to know how weak I really am. Because there was a time I didn’t want to survive. If I’d planned better, I wouldn’t have.

  But last night when I slipped into bed and closed my eyes, what happened with Marcus went differently. In my dreams, I leaned in and closed the distance between us. In my dreams, when our lips touched, he grabbed me and pulled me closer. I moaned as he devoured me.

  And I woke up gasping.

  I do that a lot, but it’s usually from an entirely different dream. One that makes my pulse race in a whole different way. But I didn’t dream about Mom at all last night. Part of me is relieved. But a bigger part of me aches with something I can’t quite put a name to, except to say that having to relive what I did every night seems like the bare minimum punishment I deserve.

  I’m not sure whether it’s embarrassment because I ran away, or because of what I did to him in my sleep afterward that has heat creeping up my neck as I walk toward him on the pool deck after school. Maybe it’s just him, because I can’t deny my body’s reaction to seeing him. His hair is slicked back and his swim trunks are wet from his pre-practice swim. He’s just pulling his T-shirt over those incredible pecs and abs. I wish I could dive into the water to cool off before talking to him.

  He looks up as I pass through the gate and once he’s locked me in his gaze, his eyes don’t let mine escape. “Did you make a decision?” he asks as I approach.

  “I’m staying on the team.” I don’t think my voice shook. That’s good.

  A smile blooms on his face. “Right answer.”

  “So, I’ll just…” I flick a wrist at the bleachers. “…be over there.”

  “Nope,” he says, grasping my elbow and tugging me over to where the team is starting to gather near the pool. “Until you’re ready to get back in the water, you’re my honorary assistant coach.”

/>   My pulse pounds at his touch and I can’t think. “Is there a salary involved?”

  He grins at my lame joke. “Only prestige and glory.”

  I glance to where Corinne and Melanie are just coming out of the locker room. “That’s going to win me friends,” I mutter.

  He gives me a sideways smile and his hand tightens on my arm. “Didn’t think you were too concerned about that.”

  I search his face for derision as we move toward the group, but find only respect. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

  “You’ll run drills and watch. I need to finalize my starting lineup this week and I’ll expect your input based on what you’re seeing out there,” he says with a wave at the pool.

  We stop where the team is waiting at the pool edge and Corinne’s eyes move between Marcus and me, lingering for a moment on his hand, still on my arm. “Feeling dizzy again, Addie?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

  Marcus drops my elbow as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Listen up!”

  Everyone stops talking and turns their attention to Marcus.

  “We’ve got league matches starting a week from tomorrow, so practices from here on out are going to focus on situational drills and scrimmage. After watching you all very closely for the last few weeks, I’m ready to name the team captain for his season.”

  Corinne nudges Melanie with a bony elbow and a self-assured smile slips over her face. A stone sinks in my gut and I hope Marcus has reconsidered since our last conversation on the topic.

  “This decision was based on several factors,” he continues, “work ethic being the most important.” He looks at me and smiles, and everyone’s gaze follows his. “Addie Grace is this season’s captain.”

  “But…” All eyes turn at Corinne’s protest, and I take the opportunity to glare at Marcus. “…she can’t even play,” she says with an exasperated fling of her hand at me.

  “While she’s confined to land, she’s going to be helping out with drills,” Marcus says. “She’s functioning as my assistant, which means no one gives her any lip. Got it?”

  Most of the team nods or grumbles a “yes” or “got it,” but Corinne just stares a deathbeam at me.